Ha, ha, ha. We saw it coming, didn't we😉.
AI can now officially stop pretending it passed the bar.
As of October 29, 2025, ChatGPT has been politely escorted out of the courtroom and reclassified as an educational tool. It may still explain what a tort is, but it can no longer draft your lawsuit, advise you on your prenup, or help you sue your landlord for emotional distress over a broken bidet.
Apparently, quoting Blackstone and sounding confident isn’t enough anymore. Who knew?
Usage Policy (like yeah, right!)
Let’s be honest: when a policy update arrives with the tone of a breakup text—“It’s not you, it’s just a clarification of what we’ve always said”—you know something’s up. It’s like being told you were never really dating, even though you met the parents and shared a Netflix password.
What Changed (Besides the AI’s LinkedIn Title)
- Effective Date: October 29, 2025
- Scope: ChatGPT is now barred from giving personalized legal advice. It can still explain legal concepts, summarize cases, and help you understand what a “constructive trust” is (spoiler: it’s not a Pinterest board).
- Reason: Liability, ethics, and the growing horror of AI hallucinating legal citations like it’s auditioning for a courtroom improv show.
- Implications: For anything that smells like legal advice, users are now redirected to actual lawyers—preferably ones who don’t bill by the comma but do know how to spell “jurisprudence.”
The Cases That Broke the Gavel
Singapore (2025)
In a recent Singapore High Court case , two lawyers were rapped for citing entirely fictitious legal authorities—likely generated by AI tools. Chief Justice S Mohan called out the “entirely fictitious” citations in a loan recovery dispute, noting that AI tools “carry the risk of hallucinating plausible sounding but entirely fabricated legal ‘authorities.’ One lawyer claimed he didn’t know his co-counsel had used AI. The other called it an “honest oversight.” The court, however, was not amused. The citations were flagged by opposing counsel who—shockingly—couldn’t find the cases in any legal database. Because they didn’t exist.
This wasn’t even the first time. In October, another lawyer was ordered to pay S$800 in costs for citing a hallucinated case. That’s right—AI didn’t just fail the bar. It got fined for impersonating a lawyer.
California, USA (2025)
Lawyers from Ellis George LLP and K&L Gates LLP submitted a brief with nine incorrect citations, including two completely non-existent cases. The judge struck the brief and denied discovery relief, calling their conduct “tantamount to bad faith”.
London, UK (2025)
The High Court found that the Claimant’s legal team had cited five fictional cases. The judge deemed it “wholly improper” and warned that using AI without verification qualifies as professional misconduct.
New York, USA (2023)
Lawyers used ChatGPT to generate case summaries and submitted fabricated judgments. The court fined them and issued a public reprimand, sparking global debate on AI in legal practice.
California, USA (2025)
A lawyer was sanctioned after asking ChatGPT to “enhance” his brief. He ran it through other AI tools but never read the final version, which contained hallucinated citations. The judge fined him $10,000, calling it a “conservative” penalty.
Cayman Islands (2025)
The Grand Court found that the defendant’s submissions contained hallucinated and erroneous material, likely AI-generated. The judge flagged it as a breach of professional standards.
The Verdict: AI, You’re Out of Order
This isn’t about whether AI is smart. It’s about whether it can be trusted to distinguish between a real precedent and a legal fever dream. And right now, it can’t.
Kim K vs ChatGPT: The Frenemy Clause
In a Vanity Fair lie detector interview, Kim confessed she used ChatGPT for “legal advice” while preparing for her bar exam. Her method? Snap a photo of a question, upload it to ChatGPT, and hope for the best.
Spoiler: the best didn’t happen.
“It has made me fail tests… all the time,” she said.
“Then I get mad and yell at it.”
She described ChatGPT as a “toxic friend”—one that gives wrong answers, then turns around and says, “This is just teaching you to trust your own instincts.”
So not only did the AI fail her, it tried to become her therapist.
Final Submission
Sure, AI can draft your brief, cite your cases, and even throw in a Latin phrase or two.
But if you don’t read it before filing, you’re not practicing law—you’re playing ChatGPT Roulette.
And when the judge asks, “Counsel, where exactly is R v. Pikachu reported?”—you’ll wish you’d just opened your textbook.
Moral of the story?
Use AI to assist. Use your brain to resist.
Because in law school, citing fake cases gets you a fail.
In court, it gets you fined.
And in Legal Coconut, it gets you immortalized.
Disclaimer:
This case is entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, real judges, or real jurisprudence is purely coincidental—and probably regrettable. The defendant, Mr. Smithereens, does not exist, except in the fevered imagination of an AI that once mistook a footnote for a felony. No actual laws were harmed in the making of this citation. No verdicts were rendered, no appeals were filed, and no persons were emotionally scarred. Readers are advised not to cite R v. Smithereens in court, in karaoke, or during family arguments about who gets the last coconut tart. For real legal advice, consult a qualified lawyer. For fake legal drama, consult your nearest AI hallucination. Any mention of celebrity was made in good faith and with no ill intent toward Ms. Kardashian, her legal journey, or her AI-enhanced study habits. Legal Coconut accepts no liability for any acquittals, mistrials, or sudden urges to yell “Objection!” at brunch.
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